Harry Potter: Son of Hogwarts
by Clenzor
Summary: Harry is taken from the Dursley's care and brought to live at Hogwarts by Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Hagrid.
1. Chapter 1 The Letter

Chapter 1 The Letter

It was as normal a day as could possibly be for Number 4 Privet Drive. The ruddy faced, walrus looking patriarch sat eating his breakfast and reading the morning paper. "Bloody hooligans," he muttered. "Going about getting all worked up over a bloomin' game of footie. Bunch of lunatics if you ask me." Vernon Dursley was a man who brooked no nonsense, and only took the time to view one perspective of a situation, his own.

His wife could not be more of an antithesis to the looks of her husband. Tall and thin, so thin her cheekbones jutted out from her face, and her eyes almost popped out of her head. This combined with large teeth, which jutted out from her mouth, gave her a distinct look of a horse if we continue with the animal motif. "Right you are dear," Petunia Dursley replied, playing the part of a wife from a different era. A wife who gave no quarrel to her husband, whose sole job was to keep the house, and raise the child.

Speaking of, their son, as one could imagine from two horrific looking parents such as his own, took away not the best of both parents, but the worst. He was short and squat, with beady little eyes and horrid teeth. Spoiled in the worst way, and as gluttonous as his father, both of who were upon the very brink of some sort of dietary induced breakdown. Put a squiggly tail on the rear of this poor child and he would be the spitting image of a pig. "I dunno, sounds like a lot of fun to me," he said. "Go to a game and then beat up some idiots. I don't think I could think of a better day." Dudley Dursley showed all the intelligence of a cave man, with none of the physical prowess.

"Now Diddykins, that's not nice," said his mother, with about as much interest as the men of her family had in a diet. She cared little as to what her child did, so long as it did not affect her social standing.

Rounding out this veritable circus of a family was a young boy, about the age of the pig, yet they could not be more dissimilar, much the same as the two adults in the room. While Dudley was short and fat, this child was tall and thin. Dudley had some of the blandest features a boy could have, with sandy hair and dull brown eyes. The other child had jet-black hair, the ebony to the pale ivory of his English skin. And while his hair alone would be enough to make him stand out in a crowd, it was far from his most remarkable feature. Across his brow was a vivid slash, a scar that looked as though it might open up at any second. Shaped like a lightning bolt thrown by Zeus it was a scar that would mark him as a boy not to be trifled with, a scar that spoke to survival through a horrific trauma. And yet this still was not his most remarkable feature. His eyes were an emerald green that looked as though they had to have been painted on by an artist such as Michelangelo. The subtle intricacies of those eyes could warrant a belief in a higher power. And yet, those eyes, which should have been filled with the joyful innocence of youth, which should have simply been beautiful, were filled with a look of haunted longing. Looking out the window, watching a laughing family walk past, the young boy wondered what sins he could have committed to end up in this hell that he was trapped in. Harry Potter, the boy whom the wizarding world knows as the Boy-Who-Lived. They had no idea that he had to earn that epithet daily.

The family turned as the mail fell through the slot and hit the hallway floor. With nothing more than a grunt and a nod from his Uncle, Harry moved to get the contents. Sitting on top was a thick vellum envelope with the words 'Mr. H. Potter' scrawled across the top in ink that matched his emerald green eyes.

Harry began to smile as he stood in the doorway hands clutching the thick envelope reverently to his chest. His first piece of mail . . . ever. Quickly he stuffed it into his pocket and brought the rest of the mail to his uncle Vernon, and cleared the table.

"I'll begin my chores then."

All Harry received in reply was a grunt from his uncle. Harry finished his chores as quickly as he could then ran to the local park so he could read his letter in peace. He opened the strange envelope and his eyes grew wider and wider as he read,

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress

Rather than feel elated he felt sick. The Dursley's must have remembered his birthday this year, and decided to play a prank on him. A school for witches and wizards, they were going to have to come up with something better than that if they wanted to fool him.

_'Although it was pretty clever, and very thorough. I never thought the Dursley's had any imagination. Plus this letter had way too much detail and information for it to have been from them.'_

The more Harry began to think about it the more Harry realized it couldn't have been the Dursley's.

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander? There's no way the Dursley's would have come up with that name." Harry said to himself. They were cruel to Harry, and even though the beatings hurt him physically, it truly was the mental abuse that ate at him every day. It was the indifference that they showed him that caused him such anguish. They garnered joy from neither his delight nor his despair. The sad fact was that they would never put any effort into creating something like this, not to create enjoyment, and not to create agony. As Harry worked his way around this logic, he began to think about whom else would have sent him the letter. He toyed with the idea that the letter was real for a moment but quickly dismissed it as a crackpot who gets his jollies from sending the letters out. As he moved to throw the letter in the rubbish bin, he saw the envelope,

Mr. H. Potter  
The Cupboard Under The Stairs  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey

"This can't be real. No way. **Magic** cannot be real!" He nearly screamed. He was angry now.

_If magic was real then why didn't I cast a spell on the Dursley's when they were mean to me? Why did my parents die in a car crash if they could use magic? Why was I forced to live with people who don't love me if I can use magic?_

As this last thought hit him he felt something land on his shoulder. A horned owl stood there blinking at him. In daylight . . .

His jaw dropped and the owl stuck its leg out as if waiting for something. He saw other pieces of mail attached there and realized he _was _waiting for something. He was waiting for Harry's response!

_"If this crackpot is good enough to train an owl to follow me out into daylight he deserves a few laughs at my expense_." Harry thought.

He quickly scrawled a note out to this deputy Headmistress on the back of her letter.

Dear Ms. McGonagall

I don't even know why I'm doing this, as you're probably not real. I don't know where I would begin if you were. Where is the school? Where would I find the supplies? I have never seen a store that carried cauldrons in it, and unless those light up toy wands that kids sometimes play with work differently for wizards I am positive I've never heard of where to get one. Even if I did my aunt and uncle would never pay for it. They hate me enough already as is.

I don't know if I want this to be real or to wake up and have it all be a dream, but until I do I await your reply.

Sincerely, Harry Potter.

With that he rolled it up, simply wrote Ms. McGonagall and Hogwarts on the outside and attached it to the owls leg. With that it flew off into the sunny sky. Even with that Harry still had some disbelief.

The next couple of days went by slower than any Harry had ever lived. And as each day passed he felt more and more downtrodden. He felt like giving up. The letter had felt like a lifeline. Harry realized it was the first time he could remember feeling hopeful about something. And not just hoping that Uncle Vernon wouldn't beat him tonight, but truly hoping for something good to happen to him. Harry woke the morning of the third day and began the sad morning ritual that was his life. At around 8 o'clock there was a knock at the door.

"Get the door boy!" his uncle spat as they began to knock again. When Harry opened the door he saw the oddest trio of people he had ever seen.

One was an old man whose silver beard and hair were long enough to be tucked into his belt. He looked to little Harry to be about 200 years old. He wore a magenta suit with stars, suns, and moons splayed across it with little to no regard to any sort of pattern. But what really stood out to Harry were his eyes. The light blue eyes that sparkled as if they were a pair of the stars on his suit. They seemed to be smiling and crying at the same time. With a touch of Legilimancy, he felt the horror that he had inadvertently subjected the young boy to. His eyes traveled down the dilapidated body of this miraculous youth, showing signs of obvious abuse.

The second person was a man so big Harry wondered why he hadn't noticed him first. He towered over the other two and by Harry's estimate had to be at least eight feet tall. His jacket could have passed as a tent, and a large one at that. He, too, had a beard though not nearly as long as the older man's and it looked as though it had been cut with a rusty pair of scissors.

The last person of the trio was an older lady. As soon as Harry saw her he knew she was a teacher with her stern glasses and the way her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She looked like the type of person who would put up with very little nonsense and scared Harry more then the man who looked like he could bench press a bus.

"Happy Birthday Harry." Said the man whose eyes still held Harry's interest.

"Yeah, 'appy birfday 'Arry." Repeated the big man in a very thick accent. "Got a cake in ere somewhere." He began to pat the large coat with hands the size of manhole covers. With a sound not unlike stepping into mud it seemed the large man found the cake and he withdrew a slightly squished cake, which read "Happy Birthday Harry!" very originally and in green icing.

"Where are your manners? The both of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves." The woman exclaimed in a very shrill voice, which only lent more credence to Harry's first impression of her. "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall Harry, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. And these two buffoons are Professor Albus Dumbledore and Rubeus Hagrid."

"As always what would I do without your assistance Minerva? Harry I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Said the old man whom Harry now knew to be Professor Dumbledore. "And I'm Rubeus 'Agrid, but yeh can jess call me 'Agrid. I'm tha gamekeeper and tha Keeper of Keys and Grounds at 'Ogwarts. " The giant said. "Could we come in Harry?" Dumbledore politely asked.

"I should go ask my uncle." Harry nearly whispered as he eyed the man larger than he would have been if he had stood on his own shoulders.

"That yeh should. Would love tah get a chance tah talk to tha man who let 'Arry bloomin' Potter be so clueless all these years." Harry was now absolutely terrified as Hagrid had nearly yelled this and he almost slammed the door in their faces.

"Neither of you should be allowed in public. Look at the boy, he's shaking for heaven's sake!" Professor McGonagall said. "Harry I am sorry for how they are acting. We honestly mean you no harm. Please if you don't mind, go get your aunt and uncle and we will wait here while you do."

Harry quietly closed the door and went to the living room where his so-called family was having a family breakfast with microwavable food, huddled around worshipping the box that gave their lives meaning. "Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, there are some strange people here who would like to talk to you." His uncle struggled to leave his chair while Petunia asked, "What do you mean strange?"

Harry shrugged and said, "You just need to see them to understand."

With that one sentence Harry saw more fear in his aunt than he ever had before. She nearly sprinted to the front door leaving Vernon behind looking very confused.

Petunia said a quick prayer before she opened the door hoping it was just some religious freak. She opened the door quickly, like one would take off a Band-Aid, quick and hopefully painless, even though one knows it will be far from painless.

She suppressed the urge to scream and quickly hissed, "Come in quickly, before the neighbors see you!"

"Lovely to see you too Petunia." Said Dumbledore as he walked in. "We are here to talk to you about Harry. His future and evidently his past as well."

At this moment Vernon came into the hallway and saw his worst nightmare standing in his hallway. "WHAT ARE YOU FREAKS DOING IN MY HOUSE?" He bellowed. "Vernon the neighbors!" rasped Petunia in an attempt to calm her husband down.

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE BLOODY NEIGHBORS! WHY WOULD YOU LET _THEM _IN MY HOUSE!" With this last outburst he struck his wife across the face with an open hand.

"Mr. Dursley I would highly recommend you calm down now." Said Dumbledore, his eyes no longer showing the twinkle, which showed both happiness at seeing the boy and sadness at seeing the condition he was in, but anger, cold and piercing. His eyes were no longer like the stars, but like an iceberg. Invincible and uncaring. These eyes promised pain if he was not listened to.

Vernon quailed under the intensity of those eyes and he realized, too late, he had made a grave mistake. Petunia yelled, "Dudley go play video games in your room."

"But Mom," Dudley yelled back, "Show's almost over!" "NOW!" Petunia shrieked using the voice that left no room for argument. Dudley waddled passed them fake tears streaming down his face until he saw the guests, at which point he sprinted (as much as he could) up the stairs.

"Why don't we all go sit in the living room?" Petunia said attempting to defuse the situation. Harry was unsure of what to do as this clearly had to do with his letter but he also had never seen his aunt this scared, and while beating his wife and nephew were nothing new for Vernon, Harry most certainly didn't want to receive one. His curiosity quickly overcame his fear and he followed the adults into the living room.

The room seemed fit to explode at any moment as Harry waited for someone to break the silence. After what seemed like hours, Dumbledore spoke. "I had intended this to be a cordial visit Vernon, but I see this is already a lost cause. Harry received his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts and his reply had us concerned. Rightfully so it would seem." No sooner had the words left his mouth had Vernon lunged for Harry with murder promised in his eyes. A bright red light shot through the air and struck Vernon mid leap, and he collapsed to the floor. Hagrid gave him a small kick with a muttered, "Bloody muggles."

"With your husband out of the way Petunia I hope we can finish this conversation in a civilized manner. Now after seeing the state that the young boy is in I no longer believe this to be the best environment for Harry to be in. If it is agreeable with him I will be taking him from your care until further notice."

"What about his safety Mr. Dumbledore?" said Petunia, showing a side of her that Harry had never seen before. A side that cared whether he lived or died.

"Hogwarts was the only other place that I would feel comfortable having Harry stay. While your household has protections for Harry that no other place could possibly have, Hogwarts has protections for all her students. Now Harry, I know this is all a lot to take in at once, but I truly hope you will consider my offer. "

At this Harry grew unexpectedly nervous. He had never known a place other than number 4 Privet Drive. What if this Hogwarts was worse? What if it was still a practical joke the Dursley's were playing on him? These questions and more raced through his mind as he considered Dumbledore's proposal.

Once again curiosity and hope overcame the fear of the unknown for Harry. "Alright, I'll go live at this Hogwarts."

Author's Note: Please Review. I have no idea if this is any good and would truly appreciate some feedback. I plan on finishing year 1 by the end of the month if the feedback is good.


	2. Chapter 2: The Alley

Chapter 2 The Alley

"Wonderful, simply marvelous my dear boy!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "We will go to the castle shortly, but first we should acclimate you to the wizarding world." "How will you do that?" Harry asked. "By takin' yeh ter Diagon Alley of course!" the giant bellowed. Harry decided to keep quiet at that. In the Dursley house, asking too many questions got you a quick backhand.

Dumbledore reached into his robe and revealed a purple suede pouch, which seemed to be filled with sand. "Now Harry, your letter informed us of your ignorance when it comes to our world. The flash of red, which incapacitated your Uncle here, was a spell, and more specifically a stunning spell. We are about to use Floo powder to travel to Diagon alley. It connects all the wizarding fireplaces throughout England. Most residences you must first ask permission before being allowed through, but for a public place like the Leaky Cauldron, there won't be a problem." Harry, once again, was silent.

"Albus, what of his things?" the astute deputy headmistress asked. "Of course Minerva, how could I be such a fool? Harry, run and grab your things and we will get going." Harry walked to the closet under the stairs and grabbed his things. McGonagall and Hagrid both began to fume at the sight. The young boy was forced to live in the darkness with all manner of creatures and filth. The typically stoic transfiguration teacher almost began to weep at what she saw when he exited the "room." Harry carried only a handful of obviously poorly fit and poorly kept clothes.

Dumbledore knew from his brush of Legilimancy that Harry could not live with his relatives any longer, but if he had held any doubts, this image, of the poor downtrodden boy would have immediately erased them. Putting on a brave face for Harry, Dumbledore smiled at the lad. He walked over to Harry and put his hand on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"Now just follow my lead and everything will be all right." Harry watched with trepidation along with excitement. He was going to watch real magic, and was going to do it as well. Dumbledore took a pinch of the powder, threw it in the flames, handed the pouch to Hagrid, called out "The Leaky Cauldron!" and stepped into the now green flames. As he did, he spun about and vanished. Harry turned to the others jaw agape, dumbfounded at the simplicity, yet immense worth of this magic.

Professor McGonagall tutted at Dumbledore's actions. "Of course he just does it without explaining anything to you dearie. You must speak very clearly otherwise you might end up in a different location. Also the spinning can be very disorienting, so when you get where you are going stay in the fireplace until you get your bearings." Harry's stomach started doing flips, already nervous just watching Dumbledore go through with it. He stepped up to Hagrid, took a deep breath and a pinch of Floo powder, tossing it in the flames and crying out "The Leaky Cauldron!" and jumping into the fireplace. With a feeling of being shot out of a cannon, he spun about and flew past a multitude of fireplaces, not seeing enough to actually glimpse anything, but recognizing the shape and contents for that of fireplaces. Merely a few moments later Harry landed, took a second to reorient himself, and then stepped out.

"Excellent my dear boy, very well done indeed." Dumbledore began to ramble on, as Harry began to look around and take in his first step into the wizarding world. It did not impress him. He stood in the middle of a dingy pub, with about ten people partaking of its services. "_It's not even 9 o'clock yet,"_ Harry thought to himself. "_If this is what the wizarding world is like, it isn't very different from my old life: dreary and depressing."_

As Dumbledore finished speaking the rest of their party arrived. Dumbledore nodded to the bartender with a curt "Tom," and attempted to make his way to the back exit. They made it about halfway before they were accosted as a tiny man in a purple top hat came up to greet Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore, how are you my good man? All set for the upcoming school ye . . ." the man trailed off as he turned to the rest of the group, specifically Harry. The man's eyes tracked from the unkempt jet-black hair, to the green eyes, and finally to the scar. As he did, his eyes widened with reverence, and he shoved his way past the professors and Hagrid.

"Diggle, Dedalus Diggle, and you must be Harry Potter." The way that the man spoke his name frightened Harry. It was almost as though the man worshipped Harry. And as Dedalus said the name, the entire bar got quiet and turned to focus their attention on the child.

"Yes, umm nice to meet you sir." Harry shakily replied.

"No, no my dear boy the pleasure, and the honor, is all mine. To meet the savior of our, nay the entire world!"

"I remember you!" Harry exclaimed, "You bowed to me once in a shop before!"

"He remembered . . ." Dedalus trailed off in what was barely a whisper.

At this he grasped Harry's hand and began shaking his hand. Harry noticed tears beginning to form in the elderly man's eyes.

"Alright Diggle, tha's quite enough," Hagrid interjected. Harry looked up at him, confusion evident in his eyes.

The rest of the bar began to queue up behind Diggle. All of them with that same look of reverence in their eyes.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter. I can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

Harry went through with the same ritual as he did with Diggle, and as Dumbledore watched, he knew that no matter how horribly Harry had been treated by the Dursley's, he had made the right choice, because for some of the people in the bar, it was a ritual, a religious experience akin to a Muslim completing the Hajj. This type of admiration would have turned Harry into an attention whore. He would have grown up needing the attention that his miracle garnered him.

Harry made his way all the way through the line (with Doris Crockford continually sneaking back up to shake his hand again,) to a strange man in a turban.

"Ah, Harry this is to be one of your new teachers. Professor Quirrell will teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." Professor McGonagall informed.

"A s-s-s-subject I expect y-you won't need m-m-m-much help with," The man said with a nervous laugh. As he went to shake Harry's hand, he was overcome with a sense of dread, as if he were standing before a tidal wave. When they clasped hands, both recoiled with pain shooting through their hands.

Quirrell scurried away, holding his hand in pain. "An odd one, that," grumbled Hagrid. "You alright 'Arry?"

"Yeah, I think he just shocked me." Harry said, not wanting them to think he was more of a freak than he was. Hagrid shooed Doris away from attempting to have another moment with Harry, and they finally made their way to the rear entrance.

They faced a very ordinary looking brick wall in a very ordinary alley. If it weren't for Hagrid being with them, Harry would have been worried about being mugged. Dumbledore withdrew a slender stick and began tapping bricks on the wall. Harry was once again very curious to witness the magic that was about to be performed. Once again he was not disappointed as the wall melted away.

"Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley!" exclaimed Dumbledore. What Harry witnessed was the most wonderful sight his young eyes could see. The street was packed with people in the most fantastical clothing. Everywhere he looked he saw another oddity, something to make him gasp in wonderment. There, a man with a storm raining solely on him. And over there was a young child flying on a small broom, zipping through the crowd. And the shops! Everything that Harry could have possibly imagined for a wizard and plenty of things he never even thought of was represented. Who knew wizards would have their own dentists? Owls constantly flew overhead, going in and out of shops and sometimes landing on people walking down the street. Harry saw a group of children around his age clustered about one store nearby.

"It's a world-class racing broom!" "Look at it! The new Nimbus 2000!" "It's the fastest model yet!"

Harry stood flabbergasted, completely overwhelmed by this onrush of new sights, sounds, and smells. The three adults just smiling at him as they remembered their first trips down that wonderful alley.

"Harry, sweetie, why don't you get the list from your envelope and we will figure out where to go first." Professor McGonagall said. At this Harry grew nervous.

"But . . . how will I pay for this? The Dursley's won't even buy me clothes that fit me."

" 'Arry yer one of the richest wizards in the 'ole world. Yer family's one of the oldest and most respected families in the country." Hagrid's words shocked the young boy. The boy who had never received a decent present, whose entire wardrobe was hand-me-downs that were both too large and too short to fit him.

"First stop has to be Gringotts," Dumbledore said, "We have an errand there and Harry needs to get some money."

"What's Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"It's the wizarding bank Harry," explained McGonagall, "Run completely by goblins, each family has a vault which contains the majority of their wealth and any precious heirlooms that they want kept safe." The group began to walk towards a splendid snow-white marble building. Two short man-like creatures stood in uniform outside the magnificent bronze doors. They did not look like people Harry wanted to mess with.

Stepping through the first set of doors led them to silver doors engraved with what seemed to be a warning message that Harry stopped to read:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
'**Of what awaits the sin of greed  
'**For those who take, but do not earn,  
'**Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
'**So if you seek beneath our floors  
'**A treasure that was never yours,  
'**Thief, you have been warned, beware  
'**Of finding more than treasure there.**_

"Yeh'd hafta be mental to try an' rob Gringotts. Only safer place in the world would be 'Ogwarts." Hagrid explained to Harry. They walked through the doors to see multitudes of the goblins scribbling in large tomes. The professors and Harry walked up to the counter and were immediately recognized by the goblin sitting there.

"Ah, Professor, we have your item waiting for you."

"What item?" Harry whispered to Hagrid.

"Nuthin' yeh need to be concerned with." Hagrid replied.

"We also have young Master Potter with us today. If you could please bring us to his vault." Dumbledore said sliding the goblin a key.

"Griphook is the account manager for the Potter family, he will bring you to both vaults."

A goblin that Harry assumed was Griphook walked over to them. Harry struck up some courage and stepped up to the goblin, and putting his hand out for a handshake, said, "Thank you for looking after my family, sir. My name is Harry Potter."

The goblin quirked an eyebrow at the polite young boy who obviously knew little about the relationships between goblins and wizards. Deciding to give the boy a chance, he grasped the boy's arm in a goblin handshake, and said in his cackling goblin voice, "May your gold flow ever freely young man. I did not know your parents personally, but they are true heroes, as are you."

"I thought they died in a car crash?" Harry quizzically asked. Griphook glared at the group of professors. "You brought him here! To Diagon Alley! Without telling him who he really is?"

"We were planning on telling him at the school as soon as we got there. There is so much that he must learn, we thought it better to be able to speak to him at length in the place that he will call home." Dumbledore said. "I told you Albus, we needed to tell him as soon as we met him. He is unprepared to go walking about as we witnessed in the Cauldron." McGonagall chastised the old man.

Harry was now thoroughly confused. All his life, the Dursley's had told him that his father was an alcoholic and that he drunkenly killed himself and his mother in a car crash.

"We should have some privacy for this I think, Griphook, the cart down to the vaults will suffice," said Dumbledore.

"Of course Professor, and I will cast a privacy spell so as to not overhear anything not for my ears."

"It's okay," said Harry, "You're my friend aren't you Griphook? You can hear this if you want."

Griphook looked at Harry with an expression of shock splayed across his face. "Of course I am young master."

The group got into what looked like a roller coaster ride, and then flew off at a similar speed. Hagrid began to turn green but withheld comment in front of his superiors. Dumbledore sighed, as he had wanted to give Harry some time to assimilate to the wizarding world before he had to explain about the boy's parents.

"Harry, the magic is a wonderful tool. We use it to heal and create, and most people use that power for good reasons. They use it to alleviate the stresses of their daily lives, and to help those in need. Many wizards use their powers to heal and feed muggles when and where they can without upsetting the statute of secrecy."

Already, Harry had many questions flying through his head, but opted to stay silent through the Headmaster's story.

"But magic is just a tool. It does not make a person inherently better. It is much the same as knife. A knife can be used to prepare and eat food, it can create works of art through woodcarving and other mediums, but placed in the wrong hands, it is turned from a useful tool to a malicious weapon." They went around a particularly sharp turn, forcing Dumbledore to pause.

"About ten years prior to your birth, a man named Voldemort began a war on the entire country. He believed that the only true wizards were wizards that had pure blood, meaning wizards that had witches and wizards as both parents and grandparents. Voldemort wanted to created a world based on blood purity and gathered a group of followers to that end. They called themselves Death Eaters, as they fed on death and despair. We, that is to say myself, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, your parents, and many others, would not stand idly by while those madmen brought their insanity down upon our country."

Dumbledore took a deep breath as reliving those times, and knowing what was to come next, was very difficult for him. "During the war, a prophecy was shared with me, it stated, '_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . ._'"

Tears began to fall down Hagrid's face and into his beard, remembering the fateful night when he rescued Harry. Harry started shivering, as the words resonated within him, he knew they were about him, and that the next words spoken by Dumbledore would shake the foundations of his entire worldview.

"Harry you were one of two boys that fulfilled the prophecy, and one of Voldemort's Death Eaters overheard a part of the prophecy before I realized he was there. He returned to his master and informed him of it."

"Voldemort decided to strike at you when you were a child, we thought that your family was safe, but we were betrayed by a friend of your parents. Voldemort entered your house and struck down your parents using the killing curse. It cannot be blocked, it cannot be countered. But when he turned to sink to his lowest depth, and attempted to murder you, an infant, something marvelous happened. In our darkest hour, somehow you not only survived, but also repelled his spell, ending Voldemort's reign of terror. This is why the people in the Leaky Cauldron were so happy to meet you; this is why I wanted you to grow up with your wretched aunt and uncle. You needed a chance to be a normal boy, for in our world, you will never have that chance. In our world you are a savior. You are The-Boy-Who-Lived."

It seemed as Dumbledore had timed his speech because as he finished, the cart came to a stop at a vault. Having lived with the Dursley's his whole life, Harry took Dumbledore's story in stride. Never show weakness, it enraged his uncle more. Never ask questions, they just turned his aunt into a shrieking banshee. Harry knew that when he was somewhere that was private he would fully process everything that Dumbledore told him, but for now he wanted to drink in every moment.

Griphook went up to the vault and stroked it with one of his long goblin fingers. As the wall vanished, Harry attempted to peer around Hagrid who had gone to enter the vault. At first it appeared empty, but then he saw Hagrid stoop and pick up a small box. As the cart sped off towards its next destination, Harry asked, "What would happen if someone other than you would have done that?"

Griphook smiled a sadistic sort of grin and said, "They would be sucked through the wall and locked in the vault. We check them every ten years or so." Harry realized, at that moment, that he never, ever wanted to cross a goblin.

"Here we are," Griphook said as the cart rolled to a stop. "Vault of Lord Potter, whose lineage can be traced back to Ignotus Peverell and Godric Gryffindor!" As Griphook shouted those words, the vault doors creaked open. Harry saw the most wonderful collection he had ever seen. An enormous vault filled with gold, silver and bronze. The most he'd ever held was a five quid note, and now all this was his.

Minerva whispered to Albus, "I thought he was going to be given a trust vault." Albus' eyes twinkled and he said, "It must have slipped my mind."

"All yours." Dumbledore said. "The gold coins are Galleons, seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon, and twenty nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle." Griphook strode forward and handed Harry a small pouch. This pouch can work as a go between for you and Gringotts. Inside are two separate pouches, and one leads back to me as account manager. You can drop a request for more funds through, or make a deposit by placing currency in it. The other pouch works as a wallet does, only with a Feather-Light charm on it."

Harry was too interested in the contents of his vault. There were shelves filled with all manner of books and tomes. There was furniture enough to outfit multiple houses, and plenty enough odds and ends for Harry to spend a week going through everything.

"Harry why don't you fill that wonderful gift from Griphook, and we'll see to your supplies. Griphook can send you an inventory of your vault later."

Harry filled his pouch with as many Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts it would hold and the group returned to their cart. As it was flying around on the track, Hagrid asked Harry what he needed for the school year. He pulled out his letter, which had a list of school supplies attached. It read:

First-year students will require:

Uniform

Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)

One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear

One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags.

Books

_The Standard Book of Spells_ _(Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

They exited the cart, and with a bow towards Griphook, Harry remembered the greeting that Griphook had used with him, "May your gold flow ever freely friend." Griphook, who had begun to walk away was shocked to hear those words from a wizard. He turned and gave the appropriate reply, "And may you one day walk upon the corpses of those who have wronged you." With their pleasantries exchanged, Harry and his odd entourage walked out of the bank. "Where do I start?" Harry asked. "The only places that require you to be there are _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ for the clothing, and _Ollivander's_ _Wand Shop_ for your wand. Also you will need muggle clothing, and some new glasses may be in order as well. Minerva would you get his texts, and perhaps some extras on our world, other branches of magic, and some history of magic and famous magicians texts? Hagrid would you get him his other equipment, the cauldron, the phials, telescope and scales?"

Both agreed to meet the headmaster and Harry back at the Leaky Cauldron at noon for lunch. As they walked towards the robes shop, Harry began to ask the headmaster the multitude of questions that he had about the wizarding world, ranging from quidditch, to muggles, and wizarding politics. They entered Madam Malkin's and the elderly witch asked what they needed. Harry handed her his school list, and she said, "Oh, of course, Mr. Potter. It is a pleasure to finally have you in my shop. We owe you an immense debt of gratitude. We'll get you measured and then it'll take me about an hour to create them to your measurements." "My dear, could you also outfit the boy with a full array of casual clothing. The ones he currently owns are dreadfully inadequate." Dumbledore replied. "Of course Albus. A young man as handsome as you should always look his best." Madam Malkin said to Harry.

After being measured, Harry and Dumbledore began the short trek to Ollivander's. Ever since Dumbledore told Harry about the prophecy, he had been terrified. Having just listened to him explain how terrible and powerful Voldemort was, Harry was wondering how he could possibly match up against something like that. Dumbledore noticed the downtrodden expression on his face, and after a small touch of Legilimancy he knew just how brave a face Harry was putting on.

"Harry, what I have told you this morning would drive most if not all of your peers into screaming fits of madness. The only thing that I can tell you is that it is not certain that Voldemort will return. It is just a theory, but a theory that I feel obligated to prepare you for. All of the teachers at Hogwarts and I will do everything in our power to aid you in this and all things." Harry merely nodded at the headmaster's words. The two wizards entered into Ollivander's shop, and rang the bell on the desk.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, I was wondering when I would see you in my shop." Harry and Dumbledore both jumped as Ollivander spoke from behind them. "One day you will have to teach me how you do that Garrick." The strange old man with wild silvery hair merely laughed at Dumbledore's statement. "Let us get down to business." Ollivander said as he reached for one of the multitude of boxes that adorned his shelves. "Garrick, I think it would be prudent to create a wand for young Harry." Dumbledore said. "I understand that the wand chooses the wizard, yet I fear this young man will need something as close to perfect as possible." "I was thinking the same thing. I will use the wands already made to narrow down the correct components."

Ollivander began handing Harry boxes and began creating two piles. One was considerably larger than the other which held the ones that Ollivander snatched away from Harry after he merely touched the box. Harry had no idea what the odd man was looking for as he was sorting the wands. He had gone through almost half of the shelves with only four wands in the smaller pile. Harry took hold of the next box, and felt a resonance. He opened the box, and grasped the wand. He finally felt complete. After years of feeling like he was missing a part of himself, he finally felt whole. Ollivander's face lit up with glee and said, "Curious . . . very curious." "Sorry, but what's curious?" "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tailfeather resides in your wand gave another feather... just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar. That tailfeather shall be the core component of your wand."

Ollivander began examining the wands in what was obviously the "keep" pile, and muttering to himself. "I think this wand shall be my Sistine Chapel." He went into the back of his shop, and returned with an armful of strange looking objects. "Wood from Saint George's shield. Made from a tree blessed by the saint himself and a cadre of holy men as well, baptized in the flame from the dragon." Harry looked on interestedly, while Dumbledore gaped in shock, what the man was handling was a relic that many would kill to have, and that was priceless in value. "As for the cores, obviously the phoenix feather from the first wand. And perhaps the heartstring from a Horntail. Yes, yes, and of course they shall be soaked in unicorn's blood (freely given of course) and basilisk poison."

Ollivander was in his own world. It was amazing to witness the master wandmaker in his element like this. It was like watching Da Vinci tinker with one of his inventions. One of the spectator's knew he was witnessing history as he stood in the modest shop. The other, as the wandmaker began to craft his masterpiece, felt a growing sense of apprehension. He wanted, nay, needed this wand. He could feel the significance of the wand to himself. With a spectacular light and a shout of glee from the diminutive old man, Harry felt that it was complete. Ollivander, obviously drained, turned to the boy and held out the wand. He felt a mixture of extreme happiness and sadness. He knew that what he had just created was his masterpiece, that no matter how hard he worked, he would never match the wand that he just created, and it saddened him to a degree. He had reached his pinnacle, had crested the top of his Olympus, and now he did not know how to proceed. Harry reached out with trepidation, and as his hand clasped around the wand, he felt such profound joy, such immense ecstasy he waved the wand and out of the tip a silvery stag leaped from the end. After a pregnant pause, Ollivander cackled. "You, my boy, are going to turn our world on his head when you are through with us." Harry weakly smiled at him, and promptly fainted.


End file.
